Dawn of the Apocalypse: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel (27 page)

            "We have children.  We can't take them across the mountains," Amy said.

            "Yes we can," Fred said.  "It's better than feeding them to the mob down below.  It'll be tough for the kids and any others not used to hiking or hunting.  We won't be able to travel very far in a day."

            "Will we be faster than the mob?" Sarah asked.

            "Probably not," Sean said.  "But we have better weapons and food.  I also don't think they will pursue us very long.  Mobs don't like to put too much effort into anything."

            I wasn't so sure about that.  Most people nowadays wanted instant gratification, but the people in the mob were willing to walk all day in search of food, and then fight to the death for it.  They might not give going across rough terrain a second thought.  Not at first, anyway.

            "Why Chattanooga?" Rosa asked.  "I'm not arguing, because I'm from there, but it was a hell hole when we left."

            "She's right," I added.  Until she said something, I hadn't considered that.  "We could come face-to-face with a bigger mob.  Or a horde of zombies."

            "I won't lie to you.  There's great danger in any decision we make," Sean said.  "We've had it pretty good up here.  Out in the rest of the world it is a hell hole.  But we don't have a choice.  Stay and die, or leave and take our chances like everyone else."

            "What if someone doesn't want to go with you?" Travis asked.

            Sean's eyes narrowed when he looked at him.  Travis was a soldier in his youth, but that was more than thirty years ago.  He claimed to have served two years in the Army, in Korea.  I wasn't sure what his MOS had been.  Since he didn't say, I suspected it wasn't combat arms.  Yet he still was the person most likely to question Sean.  I wasn't sure if it was something to do with the rivalry between the different branches of the military, or just because he was a jerk.

            My vote was jerk.

            "There's strength in numbers.  Also, splitting provisions doesn't help anyone," Sean said.

            "Maybe some of us want to go off the grid and live on our own."

            "My friend, we are all officially off the grid," Sean said.  "Or the grid is off us.  And as I recall, you didn't bring any weapons with you.  I can tell you right now we are not going to give you one of ours."

            "It's going to be that way?" Travis said, standing and looking aggressive.  "Do you think – "

            "Shut up, Travis," Fred said.  He was the only friend I knew Travis had in the group.  "We live together, or we die apart.  Besides, you're a retired stock broker.  You aren't a hunter, and you damn sure aren't a survivalist or prepper.  You'd be dead within three days if you went off on your own."

            The room was silent for a very long time.  I kind of felt bad for Travis, which was a first.  He stood there a long moment, and then quietly sat down.  For half a second Sean looked incredulous, but he was all business after that.

            "So, tonight we need to nail down a schedule for departure," Sean said.  "Everyone should've already been preparing to leave.  We have to distribute food, ammo, and other necessities, which is all going to be carried on our backs.  But first, we need to have a final vote on whether we are going west to the zombie free US, or north to Canada."

            "We're Americans.  Why are we considering Canada?" Terrel Baker asked.

            "Canada is about six or seven hundred miles away," Sean said.  "Santa Fe, New Mexico is between thirteen hundred and fourteen hundred miles from here."

            I raised my hand to get everyone's attention, planning to give my reasons why Canada was the better option.  Our lookout out on deck started shooting.  Then he rang the alarm bell.

            I was closest to the door, so was outside first.  Brett Sanders was on guard, and not prone to panic.  He was leaning over the railing and shooting down at the road.  Rushing to his side, I looked over and saw them.  Not just a mob of people, but three very old cars.  The cars worked.

            "They have cars?" I asked.

            Brett was firing into the roof of the first car.  It looked old, but in really good condition.  I didn't know much about cars so couldn't say what make and model, much less what year it was.  But Brett's fire proved successful when it veered off the road and rolled down the mountainside.  The next car accelerated under increasing fire from above.

            "Oh no!" I cried when I realized what they were doing.  "They are going to smash down the fences!"

Chapter 40

            We crossed a final road and entered the National Forest.  It was the Cohutta Wilderness.  I was pretty sure it was part of the Chattanooga National Forest.  My cabin was on the other side of it.

            Of course, the zombies followed.  Far more left the open country to chase us than I anticipated.  How tenacious were they?  What would it take to make them give up and go back?

            "How close are we?" Charlie asked.  We paused atop a hill.  I used binoculars to study the horde following us.  Zombies could be seen in open patches behind us all of the way back to the creek.  Zombies were still entering the woods behind us.  "Five miles?  A hundred miles?"

            I really didn't know.  My best guess was twenty, thirty miles as the crow flies.  Maybe forty or fifty.  The mountains and forest would slow us down.

            "Not sure now that we're on foot.  I think we can get there by morning."

            "I hate infantrymen.  They think they can walk anywhere," Mike said.

            "Must be nice to fight a war in the back of a Humvee," I said.  "How much ammo do we have left?"

            "Maybe a dozen magazines each," Charlie said.

            I did the math in my head.  About a thousand rounds left.  That was chilling.  I knew we'd run out sooner or later, but the timing sucked.

            We took a moment to swap out empty magazines with full.  We filled our ammo pouches.  All the while I thought about ways to shake the horde following us.  The last thing I wanted to do was lead them to my family.

            "How high are the mountains we have to cross?" Charlie asked.

            "We're going south of the highest.  Really, we'll just be in the foothills," I said.

            "I have a bad feeling that your idea of foothills is different than mine," Mike said.

            "My thoughts exactly," Charlie said.

            I shook my head and headed more southeast.  We didn't have a lot of daylight left.  I wanted to cover as much ground as possible before dark.  My plan was to lead the horde in the wrong direction and then lose them in the dark.

            There were lots of creeks, streams, and shallow rivers.  Apparently zombies weren't afraid of any of the ones we crossed.  The rivers were all shallow and with rock stepping stones to cross.  It was well past dark before we came to a fast moving river in a deep gorge.

            We waded across and turned due east.  At the top of the eastern slope, we stopped and lay down under cover.  The horde arrived much quicker than we liked.

            "I didn't know they were so close," Charlie said.

            A few of them climbed down to the river and milled around.  It was very rocky, with big boulders in the water, but nothing I'd chance if I was them.  The zombies weren't as good on their feet as any of us, and apparently knew it.  So they continued following the river downstream.

            "We lost them," Mike said.  "Well played, man.  Well played indeed."

            Not a single one of us had a compass.  We hadn't needed one while on the road and the river.  Even during the day I could tell north, south, east, and west.  In fact, on flat ground I was confident in my ability to stay on course.  The mountains forced us to go through gorges, along ridges, and never a straight line was given.  So it didn't take long before we were lost.

            "What do we do?" Mike asked.

            "Keep the high ground to our left," I said.  "It's not perfect, but we'll end up in the general area.  Once the sun comes up I can figure out where we are."

            There was a heavily wooded pass between Blue Ridge and Ellijay.  We entered the National Forest pretty far north of it, but we finally came across a two-lane blacktop.  It wasn't on our one map.  It was going in the right direction, but tending a little more north than I wanted.  Even scarier, it was going straight into the heart of the wilderness.

            "I think this is Georgia Route 52," I said after a while.  "Perfect."

            It wasn't long before we noticed side roads and homes scattered in the night forest.  Everything was dark and quiet.  We stopped and discussed whether or not to explore the houses.  Mike wanted to find an abandoned house and stay the night.  Charlie wanted to keep going.  I think he was as eager for our journey to end as I was.  I convinced Mike it was too dangerous since any homeowners would shoot us if we tried to break in.

            So we pressed on into the night.

            "This is what you call wilderness in Georgia?" Mike said.  "Looks like the suburbs to me."

            I was at a loss.  I'd taken the highway between Blue Ridge and Ellijay countless times, but never bothered to explore the side roads.  I'd seen "wilderness" on the maps and made assumptions.  Wilderness meant off-limits, protected land, to me.  Apparently I was mistaken.

            "Shhh," Charlie whispered, motioning for us to stop and drop.

            Laying on our bellies, we watched people moving around further down the road.  Dark shapes were crossing back and forth.  There were quite a few of them, too.  It didn't take too long to figure it out.

            "Ah, more z-bees," Mike said.  "How special.  Who knew we'd find the elusive wilderness zombies."

            "Hillbilly zombies," Charlie said very softly.  "Hoo-weee."

            "Let's see if we can find Ellie Mae.  She's cute," Mike replied.

            "You guys are hilarious," I whispered, looking around for the best place to leave the road and disappear into the woods.  "If we run into some real hillbillies, I want you to tell them your little jokes.  It'll be a real hoot."

            Since that little horde was heading our way, we low crawled to the treeline and vanished inside.  We quickly moved deeper into the woods, and found ourselves moving uphill at the same time.  It became arduous real fast.

            "I never liked mountains," Charlie said.

            "You must've loved Afghanistan," I replied.

            "Like a bleeding blister on my toe," he said.  "Fun times."

            I took point.  Mike followed, with Charlie bringing up the rear.  Once I found a game trail, we moved quickly.  Knowing home was just hours away energized me.  I might ache all over.  My feet were killing me.  But I could already see and hear my wife and children in my head.

            Maybe I was a little distracted.

            "Shit!" I cried, dropping to one knee and bringing my weapon up.

            They were just dark shapes in the night.  I didn't know if they were survivors or zombies.  Didn't matter.  They instantly charged.  I shot three dead before the fourth reached me.  I surged to my feet, bringing the butt of my M-4 into his neck, followed by a knee between the legs.  He clutched his throat and bent over.  I shoved him to the side, sending him tumbling downhill.  The next one was a woman who wailed as she attacked.

            "Zombies!" Mike cried.

            They moved off the trail and uphill to shoot around me.  The trail hugged the side of a pretty steep place.  They were coming at us in single file.  It was easy enough to kill them, but there were a lot them.

            "Downhill!" I shouted, and jumped off the trail.  I slid down on my butt for a good twenty or thirty yards.  Mike, and then Charlie soon joined me.  "Follow me!"

            I found another trail beside a mountain creek.  We could hear the zombies above us.  They started coming down, but were so clumsy that they mostly tumbled down to splash into the creek.  Soon they were tumbling down all around us.

            We shot the ones we had to, but mostly managed to run past them before they regained their feet.  I had to leap over two tangled together on the trail, before shooting another in the heart and another in the head.  That was followed by butt-stroking yet another into the creek.

            Leaping over the creek, I started up the other side.  The zombies followed, but couldn't climb the steep slope as quickly.  We began to pull away from them.

            "This gorge is filled with them," Mike said.

            And so was the top of that ridge.  We plowed through them and went down the other side.  I thought of it as a controlled slide, but there was little control.  I did manage to not start tumbling.  Mike wasn't so lucky.  He came to a stop in another rocky, gurgling creek.

            "Just shoot me," he groaned.  "I think I broke my soul."

            "I don't even know what that means.  Come on," I gasped.  Despite my words, I remained there a moment longer, huffing and puffing.  "This is insane.  Those nasty bastards are everywhere."

            Up until then, I honestly thought Jenny and the boys would be safe up in the mountains.  Now a renewed sense of dread was building.  Would I even find them at the cabin?  What would I do if they weren't there?  What if zombies had already eaten them, or worse, turned them into zombies?

            "Let's go!  I have to get home!"

            We followed the creek until more zombies blocked the way.  And that's how our night went.  Most of the time there weren't any zombies within sight.  I could hear them tramping through the woods, but managed to avoid them.  It still seemed like they all knew we were there and were trying to find us.  I prayed it was just my paranoia.